


Another Year Over and a New One Just Begun

by indiefic



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9113122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: Christmas 1944.  Steve and Peggy get caught in a storm.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kelslk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelslk/gifts).



> Written for Kelslk for the Tumblr Steggy Secret Santa 2016.  
> 
> Title from “So This Is Christmas” by John Lennon.

 

**December 1944**

  
  


Peggy took her eyes off the road, glancing over at Steve.  He was in the passenger’s seat of the rusty old truck, leaning forward, scanning the landscape.  He’d been uneasy since they headed out before dawn.  It seemed to be the new normal for him, in the wake of Barnes’ loss.  Even when there was no imminent threat, Steve couldn’t seem to sit still.  Peggy doubted, even with his enhanced senses, that there was anything more to see than snow and trees.  

While Peggy advocated never letting one’s guard down, she found it highly unlikely that there was much to guard against, in the way of Hydra operatives.  They were on the narrow, winding, mountain road.  They weren’t near any high value targets, or typical supply routes.  They were, frankly put, in the middle of nowhere.

Not that they were lost.  Being in the middle of nowhere was the plan.  They would make a slow, wide loop and circle back, gathering any intel to be had.  It wasn’t exactly a glamorous assignment.  It needed to be done, though certainly not by anyone of either of their pay grades.  But it was close to Christmas.  The holidays were difficult for everyone.  Phillips was doing what little he could to mitigate that for Steve.  Getting him away from the front, if only for a few days, was part of that.

Peggy wasn’t supposed to be here.  Dugan was supposed to drive, but an emergency appendectomy meant someone needed to fill in, and Peggy was chosen.  She almost refused the assignment.  

Something had changed between her and Steve.  She wasn’t certain what it was.  The last time they’d really spoken was in the bombed out pub, the night of Zola’s capture.  She thought maybe Steve was embarrassed that he’d laid so much of himself bare.  More likely, she’d overstepped.  Either way, Peggy was fairly certain Steve was going out of his way to avoid her.  She did her best not to take that personally.  

Peggy cared for Steve, far more than she should have.  It wasn’t camaraderie, though there was definitely that between them.  It wasn’t even flirtation.  It was something far deeper, and scarier.  She knew he’d fancied her, but she wasn’t about to hold him to that.  Peggy knew all too well how the heart could change with time and loss.  But regardless of his romantic feelings toward her, Steve would always be her friend.  And she would support him however she could.

Hour after hour passed.  The scenery was gorgeous, if slightly monotonous.  They’d been on the road for the better part of the day and Steve hadn’t said much.  A handful of sentences.  Overall, he’d been much quieter, but also more intense than usual.  In the field, he was always spoiling for a fight, with a tight lipped determination.

Peggy assumed that was another part of why Phillips sent Steve on this particular mission.  He’d been taking too many risks lately.  He made a name for himself by winning unwinnable battles.  But lately it was verging on recklessness.  He needed time away.

Peggy glanced over at Steve, on the verge of saying something.  But that thought was gone as soon as the rumbling started.  She could feel, more than hear, it.  Steve immediately leaned forward, craning his neck, looking out the windshield.

“Avalanche.”

Peggy could see it in her peripheral vision, roaring down the mountain toward them.  She gunned the tired old engine and the truck lurched forward.  She thought, for a moment, that they might be able to make it.  But it wasn’t to be.

She was aware of Steve turning toward her, and then it was like slamming into a brick wall.  Or having a brick wall slam into her.  The roiling mass of snow and debris hit the side of the truck, spinning it, throwing it sideways.  Time seemed to slow down and all she could do was hang on for dear life.

Once everything stopped, it became clear that it was Steve who Peggy was hanging onto for dear life.  And she was, indeed, alive.  She was on her back, somehow on the floor on the passenger’s side footwell.  Steve was over her, his elbows braced against the floor so that there was the tiniest sliver of space between their bodies.  It was so dark, and sound was muffled.

Peggy lay there for a moment, trying to take stock of herself.  Her right leg hurt, but she couldn’t tell how serious the injury might be.  Steve’s face was pressed against her neck and she felt him turn his head.  

“You okay?” he asked.

She took a breath.  “Yes.  I think so.”

Slowly, Steve shifted, pushing himself back and up.  It became clear, as he moved, that the pain in Peggy’s leg was due to the fact that her right knee was jammed between Steve’s leg and the gear shift.  As he moved, she grunted.  He retreated enough that her leg was free.

Immediately his hands were patting her down, feeling her leg.  “I don’t think it’s broken,” he finally said.

“Thank goodness for small miracles,” she said wryly.  She scrambled out of the wheelwell and onto the seat.  The truck was buried in snow and ice, listing badly toward the passenger’s side.

Peggy reached out, searching for Steve.  She discovered he was kneeling on the truck’s bench seat, trying to roll down the driver’s side window.  As soon as he succeeded, snow started falling into the cab, coating both of them.  Steve stood and tunneled up through the snow.  Soon there was a dim light filtering into the cab.  In another couple of minutes, he’d broken free to the surface.  She watched as he clawed his way out.  

He was only out of sight for several seconds before he leaned back into the hole he’d made.  He shook his head.  “There’s no way we’re digging the truck out.”

Peggy huffed out a sharp breath.  “Damn.”

Steve was still visible, but he was looking around.  “We’re going to have to hoof it,” he said.  “We’ve probably got a couple hours of daylight.  We should head down the mountain, try and find shelter.”

Peggy did her best to salvage what she could from the cab of the truck.  She managed to find her hat and scarf.  The coat was ill-fitting, but warm, which was all that mattered.  She and Steve were both in civilian clothes.  He hadn’t even bothered to button his coat, and she didn’t think he brought a hat or gloves.  Peggy grabbed a backpack with some rudimentary supplies.  The rest of their gear was in the back of the truck, which was inaccessible.

She climbed as far up toward the surface as she could.  Steve had to reach down and pull her out.  The air outside was biting cold and the debris field stretched out in every direction.  Peggy cursed, and Steve nodded in somber agreement.  Trying to walk through this was going to be a nightmare.  His lips were pursed together and he handed her his gloves - apparently he had brought them.  She took them and pulled them on gratefully.

* * *

 

As Peggy suspected, the going was incredibly difficult.  It seemed like with every other step, she sank up to her hip.  She wasn’t sure if that was better than Steve or not.  Being heavier, he sank with every step.  Of course, he did have the benefit of superhuman strength and endurance.

At first, she and Steve kept up a steady stream of chatter.  But as they’d gone on, the conversation died.  Peggy’s knee, which had been tender at the outset, was now throbbing painfully.  It took all of her concentration to put one foot in front of the other.  She was exhausted, shaking, her hair plastered to her head with sweat, while the rest of her was numb with cold.

Ahead of her, Steve stopped.  Peggy came even with him and stopped as well.  She took a deep breath, scanning the terrain, as he did the same.  As they’d descended, they’d also veered left, closer to the dense trees, which had been spared by the avalanche.  The debris field still stretched out in front of them for miles.  The light was getting dimmer and Peggy knew it would be dark within the hour.  It was obvious they weren’t getting off the mountain.

Steve looked over at her, his expression tight.  He took a deep breath and frowned.  “We should head for the treeline.  We’ll find something for shelter.” 

Peggy nodded, dreading the thought of several more hours of slogging through waist deep snow.  The best case scenario was that they come across a building of some sort, maybe a cabin or old barn.  Short of that, they’d been looking for some kind of natural formation that would get them out of the elements.  If they couldn’t find either, it would be a cold night where they would be forced to keep moving.

She looked up to find Steve watching her.  His expression was grim.  “How’s your knee?”

So much for dealing with her injury privately.  He’d obviously noticed.  “It’s been better,” she admitted.  She gave him a tight smile.  “But not to worry, Captain.  I’ll do my best to keep up.”

His brow puckered as his frown deepened, but he didn’t say anything.

* * *

 

By the time they made it to the treeline, it was so dark Peggy could barely see.  Steve was carefully picking his way along as well.  They stopped several yards into the trees and Steve stepped close to her.  

“The moon will be up soon,” he said.  “Best to wait for some light.”

Peggy nodded, hoping he could see better than she could.  She was badly winded and not in the mood to talk.  Her knee was throbbing at a nearly unbearable level, but the rest of her was frozen.  Her clothes were soaked through from the waist down, adding to both the weight, and her discomfort.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ll manage,” she replied tersely.

Steve took the pack off his shoulder and rifled through it.  Peggy already knew there wasn’t much in it.  With obvious frustration, he gave up and slung it over his shoulder again.  Peggy stood there, waiting, shivering.  Steve moved close enough that they were touching.  Peggy didn’t have any effort to spare for propriety or pride.  She leaned heavily against him.  His arm went around her waist, supporting her and she completely sagged against him.  He unzipped his coat pulling her inside, pinning her hands against his sides for warmth while she buried her cold nose against his chest.

It seemed like half the night before the moon finally rose, though Peggy knew it was probably only an hour or less.  Her knee was somehow throbbing even worse and she was exhausted to nearly the point of delirium.  Her thoughts felt slow and clumsy, and her body wasn’t responding the way she expected.  Steeling herself, she took a deep breath.  “Let’s charge ahead, shall we.”  She was scared by how slurred her words sounded.

Steve nodded, his expression grim.  Rather than bulldozing ahead as he had been, he stayed with her, keeping her arm looped through his own.  The going was even more treacherous than it had been on the debris field.  Snow would be around their ankles one minute, and at Peggy’s chest, the next.  It made setting any kind of pace absolutely impossible.  Every step was hell on her knee. 

They’d been walking for less than an hour when the moonlight started fading quickly.  Peggy stopped, looking in alarm.  Despite the fact that it was already bitterly cold, she could feel the temperature dropping quickly.  There was a huge storm moving in, closing in around them.  They both started moving with renewed urgency, but there was nowhere to run.

The wind was howling through the trees and soon it was snowing so heavily that Peggy could barely see.  Snow stung her eyes, causing them to water painfully.  Steve wrapped his arm around her ribcage, holding her against his side as they fought their way forward.  Peggy was grateful for his support.  She wasn’t sure how much he could see, but surely more than her.  She closed her eyes and put all of her concentration into putting one foot in front of the other.  She stumbled and Steve pulled her to her feet.  She took another dozen steps and stumbled again.

Steve finally stopped, turning and pulling her against him, chest to chest, wrapping his arms around her.  She was shivering, fighting to stand.  

Steve was Captain America.  He would make it off this mountain and out of this mess.  But the reality of just how precarious her own situation was, was slowly dawning on Peggy.

She was going to die out here.

“Steve,” she said, hating that she had to nearly yell to be heard over the howling wind, “I can’t - “

“It’s okay,” he said, cutting her off.  “We’ll make it.  It’s okay.”

She nodded because she so desperately wanted to believe him.  He gave her another couple of minutes to rest and then tucked her against his side again.  They trudged along.

It wasn’t long before Peggy stumbled again, this time slipping down a slope and coming to a hard stop in a chest high snowdrift.  Steve scrambled after her, clutching at her when he reached her.  She was shivering harder, fighting for breath.  She shook her head, screwing her eyes shut against tears.  “Steve,” she said.  “It’s not your faul - “

Without a word, he hauled her out of the snowdrift and lifted her in his arms.  She wanted to fight him, to tell him to stop being ridiculous, but she didn’t have the energy.  Without his help, she was going to die.  She pressed her face against his shoulder and held on to him as tight as she could.

* * *

 

The first thing Peggy noticed was the silence.  Not perfect silence.  But the absence of howling wind.  She blinked as Steve gently set her down in a chair.  She was shivering so hard she couldn’t speak.  They were in a little house.  There was an old woman scurrying back and forth, grabbing supplies as, presumably, her husband, looked on in disbelief.  It was clear they hadn’t been expecting company.  Peggy might have felt bad about that if she hadn’t been so grateful to be alive.

Steve was slowly peeling away Peggy’s gloves, trying to maneuver her out of her coat.  She was still covered in snow, but at least they were out of the driving wind.  Steve knelt on the floor and pried off Peggy’s snow caked boots, setting them aside.  Peggy couldn’t feel her toes at all.  Unfortunately, she could still feel her knee, which throbbed in time with her pulse.

The woman handed Steve a couple of rough towels and then threw more wood into the little cast iron stove, prodding it until it sprang to life, sending heat wafting through the room. Steve helped Peggy to her feet, and then helped her stand closer to the stove.  Her clothes were soaking wet and frozen in places.  Steve slowly peeled away layers, until Peggy was clothed only in a pair of worn long johns she’d had to trade two packs of cigarettes to acquire.  She was vaguely aware of the woman shooing her husband into another room.  Steve rubbed Peggy roughly with the towels, drying her as much as he could.  She winced against the pinprick sensations as her extremities slowly regained feeling.  Finally, Steve ran the towel over her hair, which was wet and dripping as the snow and ice melted.

The woman handed Peggy a loose robe.  Steve helped her wrap it around herself.  With some maneuvering, Peggy managed to shrug out of her sodden long john bottoms underneath the robe.  The woman quickly gathered up the items and set them on a line near the stove to dry.  Steve guided Peggy back to the chair and wrapped a heavy blanket around her.

Peggy sat in the chair, watching as Steve ran back and forth, helping the woman.  Peggy could only make out a handful of the woman’s words.  Her head was still too fuzzy with cold and exhaustion to have more than the vaguest idea what language the woman spoke.  

Steve trudged outside again and returned with an arm full of firewood.  The woman pressed a mug of tea into Peggy’s hands and she accepted it with much gratitude.  She sat in the chair, before the fire, sipping the tea slowly.

The woman led Steve through a doorway.  The woman returned quickly, but Steve took his time.  When he returned to the main room, he was wearing dry, if ill fitting, clothes.  He had a blanket wrapped around himself and he spread out his own clothes to dry.  He took a seat on the rough hewn floor next to Peggy’s chair.  The woman handed him a mug of tea as well.

“Lucky you found this place,” Peggy said, her teeth still chattering.

He looked up at her, his expression anguished and nodded.  “I nearly missed it in the storm.”  He took a deep breath, frowning.  “I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“Indeed,” she said seriously, ignoring the more nuanced portions of his statement.  “I’m quite pleased to be alive.”  It was an understatement.  Peggy understood all too well that she certainly would have died in the storm without Steve.  Hell, she might have died in the avalanche.

His expression softened into a smile.  

They both looked up as the woman handed them a plate. It had several pieces of toasted, hearty bread, and some hard cheese.  Peggy’s stomach growled loudly.

Steve smiled at her.  “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

For several minutes, they were both silent, eating their bread and cheese and drinking tea.  Peggy’s hands eventually stopped shaking.  When they were done with the food, the woman handed them both another cup of tea.  It was late, Peggy realized all at once.  The trials of the day seemed to hit her and she was beyond exhausted, fighting to keep her eyes open.  She had no idea how long they had trudged through the snow.  And she had no idea how long Steve had carried her.  A long time, she suspected.

When Peggy was done with her tea, the woman took the empty cup and motioned her to the little bedroom.  She gave Peggy a candle.  The space was close.  There was a small bed, with barely enough room to walk around it.  Peggy nodded thankfully.

The old woman left and soon Steve was standing in the doorway.  He spoke quietly.  “I think that she, uh, thinks we’re married.”

Peggy looked down at her hand, at the band of gold.  It was cover for them traveling together.  She was aware of the woman tending to the stove in the other room.

Steve looked at Peggy, frowning again.  “You take the bed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, motioning him into the room so she could close the door.  “We’re sharing.  I have no intention of freezing to death now that we’ve finally found shelter.”

Steve’s expression was equal parts wary and intrigued.  Ignoring him, Peggy crawled gingerly into the bed and beneath the heavy blankets.  She took off the robe and set it on top of the blankets.  As much as she wanted to be warm, she didn’t fancy fighting with the garment all night as she was trying to sleep.  She had no idea if Steve found the idea of her sleeping next to him in only a long john shirt and her undergarments to be unbearably scandalous.  Truthfully, she didn’t care.  She settled, making herself as comfortable as she could, but she was shivering.  She looked at Steve expectantly.

Swallowing thickly, he looked at her.  Peggy took pity on him, leaning over and pinching out the candle flame.  She heard him shrugging out of the clothes before he carefully joined her on the mattress.  Peggy hadn’t been kidding about not freezing.  She wasn’t about to let any prudish proclivities get in the way.  Under the covers, she immediately pressed against him.

He stretched out his arm, allowing her to curl against his side.  Peggy nearly moaned as she snugged herself against him.  He was so blissfully warm.  

She rested her head against his shoulder and settled her hand over his heart.  Some part of her understood the satisfaction of cuddling so close to him, regardless of whether it was reciprocal.  But the majority of her was exhausted.  The warmth of Steve next to her, combined with her own bone deep weariness, had Peggy asleep in moments.

* * *

 

When Peggy woke, there was a dim gray light filtering around the edges of the door.  It was morning, she knew.  But from the quality of the light and the sound of heavy winds still buffeting the little house, she knew the storm was still raging.  The air was biting cold in the room, but under the blankets was wonderfully cozy.

Peggy was on her side, facing the closed door.  The toasty warmth of Steve’s body was pressed all along her back, his arm thrown around her hips.  She’d slept like the dead the previous night and only had the vaguest recollections of the two of them rearranging themselves during the night in search of more comfortable positions.  The bed wasn’t big, and neither of them were small people.  She suspected Steve got the worst of the arrangement, contorting himself to accommodate her.

Peggy wiggled her toes.  Everything seemed in working order and she said a silent prayer that she’d escaped frostbite.  Experimentally, she flexed her right leg.  Her knee was still very tender, though markedly better than the previous night.  Assured that she was mostly intact, Peggy stretched, arching her back.

This had the effect of pushing her backside into Steve’s hips.  She heard his breath catch and felt his fingertips biting into her hip, whether to still her, or pull her close, she didn’t know.  He was obviously awake.  And hard, the length of him pressed against her.  Peggy’s insides clenched and she felt flushed all over.  They stayed exactly where they were for several minutes, not speaking, not moving.  Like they were teetering on the edge of a cliff.

It was just her, and Steve, with a couple scraps of insubstantial fabric between them.

And a novel’s worth of unspoken thoughts.  Peggy knew it was time to give them voice.  

She forced herself to take a deep breath.  Her voice was only slightly unsteady when she said quietly, “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.”

She expected him to roll away, or at the very least, physically pull back.  He didn’t.  He was silent for a moment.  “It’s not what you think.”  

“When did you become an expert on what I think?” she baited gently.

She heard him swallow harshly.  “I’m not avoiding you because I don't want to see you.” His voice was low and quiet.  Intimate.  

Her insides went liquid.  She felt goosebumps rise all along her arms and the back of her neck.  She waited.

She heard him wet his lips with his tongue.  “I’m avoiding you because I ... because you ...”  He trailed off, falling silent.  She heard him swallow again.  When he spoke again, his voice was harsh, ragged, filled with pain.  “I’ve lost so many people, Peggy.  I’m beginning to think it has to do with me.”

The quiet confession stole her breath and she screwed her eyes shut against the burn of tears.  

She heard his shaky laugh, and then he rolled away, flopping over onto his back.  Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position and turned, watching him drag his hand over his face.  “ _ Fuck.”   _

Peggy’s eyes went wide.  She didn’t think she’d ever heard Steve curse.  He glanced at her and seemed to be amused at how much he had shocked her.  But his amusement quickly faded and he screwed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

She sat there, facing him, waiting.

He opened his eyes and looked at her.  “I don’t want to lose you.  I  _ can’t _ lose you, Peggy.”

She watched him in silence for several heartbeats.  She looked away, across the little room, at the rough hewn wooden walls.  

He sighed.  “Maybe we should get up, check on the storm.”

She frowned down at him.  “No,” she said, irritated.  Steve didn’t want to lose anyone else, but what about her?  How many people had she lost?  “You care about me so much you don’t want to be near me.  Is this what passes for logic with you?”

“You mean a lot to me, Peggy,” he said vehemently.  He pushed himself up into a sitting position, facing her, his posture mirroring her own.  “But you don’t owe me anything.  You said maybe after the war we’d go dancing ...”  He trailed off again, looking lost.

She realized that Steve had no idea just how strongly she echoed his sentiment.  He was afraid that his feelings were out of place, that they weren’t returned.  She’d spent so much time trying to be professional, to remain aloof, that he thought she didn’t care.

Peggy shook her head, pursing her lips together.  “You could have been killed on that mission, as easily as Barnes,” she said quietly.  “Had it not been for you, I would have died on the mountain last night.”  She swallowed harshly, meeting his gaze.  “I absolutely meant what I said about going dancing after the war.  But I’m afraid, I may be waiting for a day that never comes.”

He looked at her, his brows pulling together, like he was struggling to understand what she was saying.

“I don’t want to throw away my only chance.   _ Our _ only chance.”  She reached out and touched his cheek.  

She felt him shudder and he pushed into her touch ever so slightly.  “ _ Peggy _ .”  He leaned in toward her and - 

There was a knock at the door.  They jumped away from one another.  Peggy turned, looking at the door.  She glanced back at Steve.  He was still watching her, but the fragile moment had been lost.

Peggy grabbed her robe, wrapping it around her body and she rose, opening the door.

 

* * *

 

The storm was still raging.  But, as always, life carried on.  Steve and Peggy both knew that well.  They dressed quickly in their dry clothes.  The old man, Stepan, needed to tend to animals in the barn.  His wife, Margarita, recruited Steve to help him, much to Stepan’s chagrin.  

Peggy understood the old man’s pride, but he looked positively ancient, and frail.  He could use Steve’s help.  And both she and Steve were eager to repay their hosts’ kindness.

As Steve and Stepan disappeared into the blowing snow, Peggy helped Margarita prepare a hearty stew, cleaning and cutting vegetables and meat.  Conversation was kept to a minimum.  Peggy understood the written language far better than the spoken language.  And Margarita and Stepan’s dialect, in particular, was difficult for her to decipher.

It was several hours before Steve and Stepan returned.  When they finally made their way inside, it was clear the old man had gotten past his pride.  He wasted no time in putting Steve to work around the little house, attending to repairs he hadn’t been able to manage himself.  Steve took it all in stride, gamely doing his best, despite not being particularly handy.  As Peggy already knew, Steve was far more adept at breaking things, than fixing them.  However, with Stepan’s instruction, they managed to repair the kitchen worktable, as well as moving a heavy armoire and then repairing the trim around one of the exterior doors.

Margarita coated thin strips of meat in flour and then browned them in butter in a heavy, cast iron pot.  When the meat was done, she poured in some wine and allowed it to cook briefly.  Then she had Peggy add all of the vegetables and fill the enormous pot with bracing cold water from the pump.  Margarita needed the pot moved and she called Steve over.  He smiled and nodded and moved the pot as both Peggy and Margarita looked on with appreciation.  Margarita caught Peggy’s eye and waggled her eyebrows, with several wistful words before patting Peggy on the shoulder and turning away.  

Steve looked at Peggy, frowning.  “What’d she say?” he asked quietly.

Peggy blushed in spite of herself.  “I’m fairly certain that she said that she once eloped with a handsome young soldier herself.”

Steve blushed too.  “Oh.”

Peggy smiled and turned away.

Stepan and Steve went back out to the barn.  Steve had told Peggy how much work there was to do out there.  The barn was in desperate need of repairs.  The storm was still raging violently, but inside the barn, with the animals, Steve said it was tolerable.  He also said he hated to think of Stepan trying to take care of those tasks by himself.

While the stew simmered, Peggy helped Margarita with tidying up and organizing.  The rugs could do with a good cleaning, but there was no way to manage that while trapped in the house.  They settled for sorting through shelves of preserves.  Peggy organized Margarita’s store of yarn, knitting supplies, and sewing box, before getting to work on mending several items of clothing.  Peggy wasn’t an accomplished seamstress by any stretch of the imagination.  But she could manage a decent stitch.  And her hands weren’t gnarled with arthritis like Margarita’s.

It was midday when Steve and Stepan returned to the little house, bringing with them a blast of icy cold air and a swirl of snow.  It was possible that the storm was actually getting worse.  They all sat around the newly repaired table and shared a meal.  After they ate, Stepan and Margarita moved to the two chairs near the stove and dozed.  

Steve and Peggy sat next to each other at the table, closer than necessary.  Steve retrieved the map from the backpack and they studied it.  They had a general idea of where they were, and how to make it to their rendezvous point.  But they wouldn’t be able to do that until the storm broke, and neither of them had any idea when that might be.  As they sat at the table, Peggy took Steve’s hand in both of hers.  He sighed and shifted, wrapping an arm around her waist, settling closer to her on the bench.  They didn’t do much more than sit there, but even that was far more than they’d ever dared.  Peggy was all too aware of how Steve’s breath stirred the hairs at her temple.

It was winter and the days were very short.  All too soon, the sky was darkening again.  Peggy enlisted Steve to help her with winding skeins of yarn into balls for easier use.  Then he returned the favor by making her bundle up with him to go out to the barn to hold the lantern while he saw to the animals for Stepan.

The barn definitely wasn’t a romantic locale, but they were alone.  With virtually no chance of being interrupted by anyone.  Peggy hung the lantern on a hook and pulled Steve near.  They simply stood there for long minutes, arms around each other, foreheads pressed together.  It couldn’t last, Peggy knew that.  But it was all the sweeter for it.  She finally tilted her head up and he kissed her, so softly, whispering her name.

She touched his cheek softly, and then carded her fingers through his hair, like she’d wanted to do a thousand times before.  His breathing was shallow, his eyes pressed shut.  His fingertips at her hips dug into her her, pulling her closer to him.  When he kissed her again, it was hard, possessive.  Not the most skilled kiss she’d ever shared, but thoroughly enjoyable nonetheless.

Regretfully, Peggy finally pulled away.  “We really should head back inside.”  Steve looked at her blankly, but slowly nodded.  Peggy didn’t miss the twinkle in Margarita’s eye when they finally returned.

They all shared a meal again.  As soon as the dishes were cleared, Stepan and Margarita retreated to their bedroom.  Steve and Peggy sat near the stove for a while.  Peggy knew it was ridiculously early, but there was nothing to do.  And staying awake only diminished Stepan and Margarita’s already small supply of lamp oil.  So all too soon, they found themselves heading for the tiny bedroom.

This time, there was no haze of exhaustion as Peggy undressed and crawled under the covers.  She was all too aware of Steve’s nearness, the sound of his breathing.  He had turned his back, but she knew he was aware of her every move.  She doused the candle and listened to him shrug out of his own clothes before he slid between the covers next to her.  

In the small bed, there was no way to avoid touching one another.  But they kept it to a minimum.  Their feet tangled together.  Peggy was on her side, facing Steve, who lay on his back, his arms at his sides.

“Sounds like the storm’s finally letting up,” Steve said.

Peggy made a sound of agreement.  “Margarita said there’s a path east of the house.  It sounds like probably a mile, which won’t be fun, but then it runs into a maintained road.”

“Flag a ride?”

“Unless you have a better idea,” Peggy said dryly.  “I can’t exactly show a lot of leg in this weather, but I should manage to prevail on the kindness of strangers.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but Peggy could imagine his frown.  He sighed.  “If we can get a ride to the nearest city, we should be able to take a train.  The lines are still running.”

“Back at camp in what?  A day and a half?”

“About that.”

Peggy sighed, frowning.  It wasn’t that she wanted to spend more time trapped in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere.  But she knew that as soon as they were back at camp, they would both be immersed in their respective duties.  She’d be lucky to catch a glimpse of him for weeks.

They were both quiet for a long time.  Peggy listened to the deep, even sound of Steve’s breathing and wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

“This could be our last night with any privacy,” he said, breaking the silence.

Peggy took a deep breath.  It was, by far, the most forward thing Steve had ever said to her, and her body responded in kind.  “Indeed.”

He rolled onto his side, facing her and she reached out, touching his bare chest.  “I need you to know,” she began.

He waited.  “Yeah?”

She pursed her lips together for a moment.  “After the war.  I still want to go dancing if we’re both lucky enough to make it through.”

He was quiet.  “So tonight, you don’t want to - “

“It’s not that,” she said quickly.  She scooted closer to him, pressing herself against him and his arms went around her.  “I want this.”  She took a deep breath.  “But I also want ...”

“More than this,” he said, sounding relieved.  “Me too.”

Deciding that words were just getting in the way, Peggy touched his cheek gently and moved her face close to his.  She could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek.  Slowly, she pressed her lips to his.  His hand on her hip tightened and he sighed against her, deepening the kiss.  She threaded her fingers through his hair and lost herself in the feeling.

 

* * *

 

The morning after was unlike any other in Peggy’s experience.  Not that she’d had scores of lovers to compare Steve to.  But she suspected even if she did, he would be unique.  The morning was considerably less awkward than she feared.  For all of the caution that Steve had displayed in his dealings with her over the years, it seemed that once he finally set his mind on staking a claim, there was no looking back.  

Not that Peggy was complaining.

They lounged in bed longer than they should have, but they both knew how rare this opportunity was, and they made the most of it.  By the time they finally left the bedroom, the sun was up and breakfast was waiting.

It was an odd sort of regret that seemed to hang in the air as they dressed.  Margarita packed supplies in the backpack and Stepan went over the map with Steve.  

Before long, they were on the snowy path that led to the road.  Peggy’s knee was still sore, but it wasn’t a major hinderance.  Once they reached the road, it took a while for Peggy to flag down a ride.  Steve waited in the treeline until a promise of transport had been secured.  The truck driver seemed less than impressed when Steve climbed into the cab next to Peggy, but he didn’t kick them out.

Their route to the train station ended up being considerably less direct than they’d hoped.  When they finally arrived at the station, it was closed for the night and they had to get a room at a little inn.  Neither of them were too upset about it.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, they caught the train.  Peggy was all too aware of how close Steve stayed to her, and how much she liked it.  He slipped his hand against hers and she twined their fingers together.  

Neither of them spoke.  There wasn’t anything more to say.  They each knew how the other felt.  At least it was a novel kind of torture.  No more longing looks, wondering what they might have together.  Now they both knew, without a doubt, what they were missing.

By the time they made it back to camp, they were maintaining a respectable distance.  There wasn’t opportunity for tender partings.  It appeared that losing a truck in an avalanche required a truly odious amount of paperwork.  And Phillips wasted no time in putting Steve back to work.

For days, Peggy didn’t see so much as a sign of Steve.  She saw the reports, about the battalion trapped behind the German line.  She never doubted Steve.  But she did worry.  Perhaps now more than ever before.

 

* * *

 

It was late.  Peggy was finishing up some paperwork in the command tent when there was a rap against one of the supports.  Steve ducked through the flap and looked around.  When he realized they were alone, he gave her a soft smile.

“You’re back.”

He nodded.  “Just made it into camp.  I was looking for the Colonel.”

“You just missed him,” she said.  “He left orders not to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency.”

Steve nodded.  “It can hold until morning.”

They stood there, looking at one another.  There was a tension in the air.

Slowly, Peggy crossed the space to Steve and he immediately moved closer.  As she pushed up on tiptoe, his hands found her waist and he leaned down, meeting her.  It was a stupid risk to take, stealing moments together in such a public space.  But they had little choice.  

Regretfully, Peggy pulled away.  They were both short of breath.

Steve dragged his fingers through his hair and then gave her a soft smile.  “Dugan’s feeling better,” he said.  “He’s having a ... thing, tomorrow.”

Peggy arched an eyebrow warily.  “A thing?”

Steve smiled again.  “For New Year’s.  I think it would be overselling it to call it a party.”

Peggy laughed softly and nodded.  “Ah.”

He looked at her sheepishly.  “I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to go.  With me.”

Peggy knew what the right answer was.  But she couldn’t bring herself to say it.  She smiled.  “I’d love to.”

He seemed shocked, though probably no more than she was.  He smiled.  “Okay, then,” he said.  “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

She nodded.  “Indeed.  Until tomorrow, Captain.”

He gave her a real smile then and nodded.  “Goodnight, Agent Carter.”

 

THE END


End file.
